Where are the tout !!!!!

[Otter]

William checked the Rloxe as he entered the clearing, 5:30, they had done well. He joined Bill and they both witnessed the hollering and whooping of the three amigos as they discussed the afternoons events. “Christ, dubby is a fine actor, he is really putting on a show for the others”; thought Bill.

“Aheem” said Bill trying to get their attention,” time to get some food”. As Bill slipped into the river, William explained that they restricted themselves to killing two good trout each season, usually about a pound and a half as they make the best eating. This was a special occasion and two trout were required to celebrate the fact that they were indeed hunters. All eyes fixed on Bill as he waded carefully to midstream, dropped down about thirty yards, crossed slowly back to their side , inched forward and stopped.

He drew out his tippet, opened his fly box, tied on a small black fly and degreased his leader. Like a heron he stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Finally he raised his rod into a back cast, coming forward in a wide open loop his leader dropped featherlike onto the water surface, As it came back downstream , in one motion bill tweaked his fly line and moments later he lifted into the finest trout they had seen all day.
The gallery were mesmerised, though William did shout down to him “Show off”.

Bill smiled as he netted the trout and called up, “Just to prove I am the better guide , how about dubby tries for the second trout”. Go on dubby, show us what you can do , Hank started pushing a reluctant Dubby to-wards the river. He held his hands up , “ Okay , Okay, anything for a laugh, what size do you wan’t William”. “ Just catch a trout , if you can, dear dubby”; responded Dougsden. “These guys are probably starving”; said William, “ hmmm, a three pounder should do, setting dubby an impossible task. “ Any fish shops around ? “, replied dubby sarcastically.

Dubby waded out, meeting Bill mid stream, winked at him and started wading downstream. “Jeeez”; shouted William, “it gets real deep down there as I found out more than once. Dubby continued down , zig zagging , retracing his steps a few times, he was almost out of sight and they could not follow as the bank was a maze of thorny bushes. Slowly he inched across to their side. “If he ain’t back in five minutes I’m racing down to the next pool”; William was genuinely worried. They all sat down watching the river, not a word was spoken. Bill struggled to stop himself from grinning but somehow he kept pokerfaced. Emergency services are an hour away he whispered to William. Just as William was getting real panicky the silence was broken by a loud thud as a trout of damn near three pounds landed at their feet..

Coming up the bank was Dubby grinning like a Cheshire cat, “ Will that do ?”.

Bushy gave Dubby a huge bear hug, “thought we lost ya to the river you crazy old fool”;

William , looked at the trout, looked at dubby, looked at Bill, looked at the river and for once in his life he was entirely speechless.

Dubby took out his flask, poured a drop into the river, offered it to Hank , and said “ I think I have a little confession to make…………………………”

TBC

[hankaye]

Otter, Howdy;

WOW, .....

This is really turning out to be quite instructional... you really should consider turning this into
a Soft-Hackle primer.
I find myself "tuning-in" each morning eagerly anticipating the newest installments.
After Rascal has his 'Morning Constitional'...

hank

[Otter]

Rascal whelped with delight when Hank returned to the RV. He leapt out and immediately surveyed his surroundings. Cocking his leg at the first bush he commenced marking out his territory, finally ending at the wheel of William’s car. Returning to Hank he raced around Hanks legs shaking his tail excitedly. “Howdy, Rascal, how was your day ? , now don’t go chasing any rabbits, do ya hear”, Hank was delighted to see his friend.

Dougsden disappeared into the RV and re-appeared a few minutes later with five pewter tankards and a large bottle of whiskey. “Got 6 of these as a present many years ago, can’t think of a better time to wet them”.
Dougsden filled the tankards. “ Jeeez, Frog hunter, take it easy, that ain’t beer you are pouring in those tankards”; said Hank slapping Dougsden on the back. “ If you are man enough to call me a Frog hunter, you are man enough to drink this small drop of whiskey” said Dougsden as he raised his tankard in a toast. “To Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill Hickock, the best god damn guides on the planet…… and to friendship, salut”. Dougsden downed the whiskey , raised his tankard upside down and said “ anyone with a drop left does the wash up”.

William cleaned out the trout and headed for the stream to give them a wash. In the meantime Bill took a small smoker from his car and readied it. “This is a mix I made up my self, Oak chips, Cedar Chips, Thyme , Parsley and a pinch of cinnamon, Bills smokn dust, I call it. The taste of them trout will bring tears to your eyes “

Bushy was already licking his lips in anticipation . “Hey bill, do ya reckon them trout will taste better than frog legs, I know where there’s a fine toad with a few fat legs on him”.

William had neglected the first rule that a trout angler learns , never ever leave your fly box unattended. Dubbn finding his box lying beside his rod, opened it and transferred most of the flies to a spare box he had with him.
He would have fun later.

The smell of the smoke had them gathered around the smoker, like flies to cow dung. Hank, kept asking, is it ready yet Bill, is it ready. Rascal had already made short work of the heads and tails and sat obediently at Hanks feet, anticipating more morsels coming his way. William was just starting to pour the Blanton’s when they heard the purr of an approaching vehicle. “Hope it ain;t the Sheriff “, said Hank. All this wild west stuff with Buffalo and Wild Bill allied with too much whiskey was starting to cloud his thinking.

“New York plates aint the local sherriff, must be the FBI “; Dubby thought himself hilarious as he guffawed loudly, whiskey at work again. “Christ , it is the Sheriff “ , whispered Bill as the stranger emerged from his car.
“Let me deal with him, he is a contrary son of a bitch”; Bill walked over to the stranger and talked quietly for a few moments. Finally the stranger raised his voice for all to hear. I hear ya bill, but I gotta do my job, the law is the law. With that he walked over to Hanks RV, walked around it , examining it carefully, taking notes in a small pad he had taken from his shirt pocket.

“Can the owner of this here RV please stand up”, said the stranger in a drawling loud commanding voice.

“That would be me” said Hank as he stood up, staggering a little from wary limbs and too much whiskey”, “ What’s wrong he sniggered.”

The stranger glared at Hank, “Something funny I said ?”. “ No, No sir said Hank, I do apologise, too much whiskey Sir”, showing the stranger the half empty tankard.

In the last few days this vehicle has broken every law in this state and a few more states as well, can I see your licence sonny. Hank shook as he tried to retrieve his wallet from inside his chest waders. Fumbling awkwardly he handed the licence to the stranger. “ Hank”; said the stranger looking at the licence, “you are looking at spending a few months in one of our friendly jails you son of a bitch.”

Hank was dumbfounded, what had he done wrong, this must be some great big mistake.

The stranger started writing furiously in his pad. This was all too much for Hank, “ Look here Sheriff, what am I being charged with”.

“ Impostering sonny, you are being charged with impostering a Fly Fisherman”, the stranger guffawed so loudly that Hank thought he was talking to a mule and god knows through his whiskey glazed eyes the stranger even looked like a mule.

The stranger stuck out his hand, “ Willow, Willowhead’s my name and having fun with ye western folk sure beats sex”. The blow from Hank caught Willowhead right between the eyes and he sunk like a stone. “Chit shouted Bill , don’t give Hank anymore whiskey”





TBC

[William Anderson]

Holy Crap!

[tie2fish]

That's gonna leave a mark ... .

[letumgo]

* HOWLING LAUGHTER *

I didn't see that coming, nor did Mark...

[kanutripr]

I just got caught up on the happenings. You guys are heeeelarious! Way to go Otter!





Vicki

[willowhead]

HEY! who turned out the lights?????????????? .......wait a minute...........i think i see a few stars........... .....OH **** now i remember............. ...............................oh well...............i guess payback IS a ***********............. ..........shoulda sent that rod a long time ago.............. ................well, at least i've got some damn good Cognac with me...........Hennesey XO........let's have at it.

[hankaye]

I'm laffin too hard to say howdy.......

hank

[Otter]

Willowhead lay spread eagled on the ground, eyes closed . As the onlookers started to panic,he opened his left eye and winked at them and burst into a huge grin. “ Are y’all just gonna leave me lying here”
Concern soon gave way to gut wrenching laughter , William stepped forward and helped Willowhead to his feet. Hank simply stood there staring at his fist, then sheepishly gave Willowhead a hug and apologised.

“ Dances like a butterfly, stings like a bee , Hank , zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, …. Last time I got slugged …way back …… ouch , about ten years ago outside a Jazz club in LA….. had a little ole argument with the doorman . .. bout a dame, well we had a few beers after, turns out he was a mean fly tier… sent him a real jazzy artistic fly afterwards … had a few beers with him a few years later down at Sow Bug, boy could he throw a punch.."

“Rocky “, he said pointing at Hank, you gotta eat some more steak if you are gonna go round slugging officers of the law . Got chased , …… Chicago 1987… on tour with a crazy band ….man those Chicago cops don’t take prisoner’s………… spotted my vice in the back of the van, well you know how it goes, he tore up the ticket…. cost me a nice cape though….. ”

Doudgsden offered Willowhead the sixth tankard, full to the brim , “Hope we don’t get anymore guests, this is the last tankard”. Willowhead laughed, “ bottle does me fine , downed a bottle of Kentucky, after long tour in 92….. slept solid for four days afterwards… didn’t wake to have a hangover……man that trout does smell good ”

Dig in lads said Bill, offering each a fork, ain’t got no fancy plates, just some bread and these trout.
“Bewtiful Bill, never tasted anything so good, must get some of that there smokn dust from your”; Dubby licked his lips, then grabbed the smoker and start licking it. Easy, dubby said Bill as they played tug of war with the smoker.
With well filled belly’s , calm descended and soon thoughts turned to fishing.

“Was planning to do the evening rise “, said William, “ might give that a miss to-night, too much Whiskey, Willowhead might like to see the river and a good walk will clear the heads”. “Buffalo Bill for president, Can we fish, Yes we can, maybe, some of us, but not to-night”, Hank definitely needed that walk

The river looked amazing at sunset, lengthening shadows and the glow from the setting sun made for a magical setting. Clouds of BWO spinners danced over the water, dipping, laying their eggs. “Wow, look at the BWO’s”;exclaimed Hank. Everywhere they looked trout were rising. Hank, Dougsden and Willowhead simply could not believe that a river could hold so many trout and wished they had not opened the whiskey so early.

After a long walk they returned to base camp. Bill turned to Dubbn, “What do you reckon, 5AM”. Dubbn took a diary from his jacket, flicked through its pages and quietly said 4AM start, need to in position by 4:30”
Bill and William nodded in agreement.. With that Bill took out his portable fly tying stuff. “ Nice bit of kit”; said Willowhead, whistling in appreciation. Laying down a nice base of orange thread near the eye of the hook, Bill paused. “ The plan is to fish the slacks early morning where hopefully we will find some really big trout mopping up the spent BWO’s, this is one pattern that works quite well, if you are a die hard softie you can try a greased up small P&O”

Bill stripped off some natural CDC and lay it pointing over the eye of the hook. Cut of the waste and then tied in Coq De Leon tails, splitting the tails, then dubbed the thread lightly with a rusty coloured mix. He dubbed the body backup to the base of the CDC and with some figure of eights he split the CDC into a cruciform shape. Satisfied with the wings he lightly dubbed the thread and did a few more figure of eights before tying off at the eye and finally using his thumb nail cut the wings to the desired length. An hour and a half later Bill had tied about 8 for each of the anglers, 2 orange, 2 rusty, 2 red and 2 light olive.

"Mighty impressive tying Bill, might impressive", Doudgsden had watched every turn of thread as he sat sipping the whiskey.

Soon the whiskey and tiredness took its toll and all simply lay on the ground, still in their waders, using their wading jackets as pillow. “ Goodnight, Jim Bob, goodnight John Boy……..good night all “; said Hank as he drifted off into a deep sleep.



TBC - yawwwwwn